In Sanity
by Serenitychan13
Summary: UPDATED! Gift-fic for Hopeless Siren, as promised and in progress! Going through your basic night from hell, Graverobber comes across Shilo, having a hell of a night of her own. Semi-plotless fun in the vein of Breaking and Entering.
1. Chapter 1

In Sanity

_**Disclaimer: **_**I still don't own Repo! and I never will. Again with the "nothing alluded to in this fic is mine". Also, there will be a couple of marked footnotes, for those who care to know a bit more about Shilo's bugs. Said footnotes will be indicated with asterisks (*).**

_**A Brief Author's Note:**_** No, the title is not a typo. I'm very purposely not explaining it - the meaning is up to the reader.**

To say that everything had been completely insane before the whole Genetic Opera fiasco, what with Blind Mag popping her eyes, the Repo Man being unmasked and then shot in front of everyone, and Rotti Largo kicking it on-stage, would have been the understatement of all time. Saying things were more insane than ever, while more accurate, would still be the understatement of the century. Trying to say that everything had gone back to "normal" afterwards was a bad joke. And with Luigi and Pavi Largo, plus Amber Sweet, in charge of GeneCo, that had been exactly what happened - after a few scripted public apologies and a charity ball hosted by Amber, they had tried to gather up all the pieces and sweep them all under a giant rug. And the result looked something like trying to throw a tea towel over an elephant and call it hidden. To everyone who looked around, whether they really had their head on straight or not, it was quite obvious that the shit had hit the proverbial fan.

Drunks, prostitutes, and addicts of all kinds swarmed any street that served less than the designer-exclusive set, getting their fixes, continuing to have their surgeries, and sleeping or passing out wherever they found space. Decent middle-class folk generally didn't leave their houses after six at night out of fear of "those people". Every so often, there would be a public service announcement about the GenCops getting some new power or other over the graverobbers, whom people were still warned would do anything to get at a Zydrate-filled corpse. Anyone who did not know a graverobber personally had wound up under the impression that they were more likely to be murdered in their sleep by them than to die in a drunken car crash or shit like that. And due to the nature of their profession, generally graverobbers made it their business _not_ to know anyone on a personal level, so the myth had been growing steadily. About once a month, usually on a Sunday, the papers would put out pictures of bullet-riddled bodies - alleged graverobbers found in the cemeteries.

"Bah," groused a pale man sitting on an overturned mailbox, reading by the one working street light on his block. "That girl was no more a graverobber than I am a Catholic priest."

The picture on the front of the paper this particular Sunday was a gory color spread of a young woman who couldn't have been more than twenty, her bleached-blonde-and-baby-pink dreadlocks soaked through with blood. Half her skull had been blown away and her face rendered nearly unrecognizable, but he knew who she was - he had stopped selling to her after an unpleasant confrontation with someone claiming to be her brother. The man with the multicolored, partially-dreaded hair gingerly touched his jaw - while the bruise was long gone, he wouldn't be forgetting that sonuvabitch for a while. Snapping the newspaper, he studied the picture of his ex-client more closely. A young man only slightly older than her lay beside her, having obviously tried to protect her when they were set upon by the GenCops. Things like this happened all the time; Zydrate dealers had become more particular about their customers with squealers on the rise, who went after the reward money. As a result, half-addled Z-brains wandered out into the cemeteries, trying to get their own fixes - a small number made it, but most wound up dead.

He briefly felt sorry for the unfortunate couple, having been probably blasted out of their minds on something else and just being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but couldn't really think about it for long. Remorse never helped anybody, particularly in this kind of life - addicts squeaked by a day at a time, and when they died, no one cared. Murder, whether it had to do with Repo Men, GenCops, or just thugs in the street, couldn't exactly be described as some sort of new development. Snorting angrily, he got up off the mailbox and crumpled the newspaper in his hand, deciding this wasn't news by any stretch of the imagination - news, by definition, should be generally useful information. Leaving the wadded-up paper where it fell from his hand, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and decided now would be the best time for him to get some sleep. One of his usual dumpsters wasn't three blocks away, so he turned in that direction and off he went.

His walk took longer that it reasonably should have, with his being accosted by three bleary-eyed Z-brains - two girls and what was probably a guy, with the guy (?) almost getting violent over payment issues - and a drunk getting him confused for someone else. How in hell could you mistake _him_ of all people for someone else!? He finally had just walked off in extreme exasperation, leaving said drunk gabbling animatedly with what was probably the corner of the brick wall he'd just been leaning on. Before he got five steps away, it started to rain - pouring buckets, cats and dogs, the bottom fell out, all that. Growling irritably, he located the dumpster he decided to claim as 'his' tonight and shoved the lid open with more force than he normally would have. In what he hoped was his last major physical exertion for today, he vaulted in before the lid banged off the wall behind it and slammed back down. He managed to find a comfortable position on an old couch cushion and settled in, propped up against the side with his hands folded over his stomach. Damning the day that had just ended, he shut his eyes and tried to let sleep take him. He found himself at least grateful that the noise of the rain on top of the dumpster drowned out whatever might have been happening outside.

Not an hour and a half later, he found himself jolted awake by a most unpleasant sensation. Was he wrong, or was the world... rising? He didn't know, but whatever it was, he _hated_ it. Then he realized that the world wasn't moving, just his dumpster - apparently with all the rain, a more frightful smell than usual had caused people to call up and complain, so they had sent out a garbage fleet to dispose of any collected mess. Thankfully, this particular truck didn't seem to have the best hydraulic system, so the dumpster got stuck halfway. It wasn't much, but he found it to be enough that he could kick the lid open and scramble out onto the side that normally faced the wall. He had been about to jump down on his own when the damned thing started moving again and he instead crashed to the ground in an ungraceful heap. Not many things could ruffle the Graverobber, but a fall resulting in a relatively high-velocity collision with unmoving asphalt did tend to put a damper on the moment at least.

A string of curses that could have put a seasoned sailor to shame tumbled out in a continuous growl as he picked himself up and cracked his neck, making a noise that would have been obtrusive were there anyone around to hear it. Rain still poured from the sky, hard enough that it saturated his hair immediately and almost soaked through his coat. He decided migrating a bit might help him find a place to sleep - decent or not, so long as it was relatively dry he didn't give a damn. Garbage trucks generally didn't move all that fast and this one hadn't got more than twenty yards away before it found another dumpster, so he sidled up behind it and, once the lever came down, made himself comfortable. The mechanical bits re-situated themselves and the disposal vehicle lurched off, hopefully heading somewhere that he could find a bit of cover. Propping his elbow on part of an old table, he leaned his head on his hand and decided to snooze until the thing stopped again.

He had no idea how much time had passed since he had his little nod, but when the truck camed to a harder stop than usual and he jerked awake, he found himself in the last place he would have expected - the "old money" section. Real, old-fashioned cemeteries rose on both sides of the street and, casting a glance around, he figured that even with the crackdown, they wouldn't be well-patrolled on a rainy Sunday night. Yep, that place over there looked like as good a place as any to try and sleep. He grunted a bit at moving - there had been one of the broken table's legs jamming into his back for at least part of the way - and finally just clambered down out of the truck, not really caring all that much about how he landed. To his surprise, not that he'd admit it in a million years, he made a halfway decent landing and, getting the pins and needles out of his right shin, started off. The gate of one of the cemeteries had been left open and he took this as an invitation to walk right in. _It wasn't like anyone in there could rat on him_, he thought sarcastically, ambling up the hill.

Standing proudly to greet visitors were the usual gargoyles, angels, obelisks, and ornate flower vases; mausoleums set on man-made hillocks watched over their smaller marble cousins. As he looked around, he wondered if anyone around here might provide him with a little extra Zydrate - if he was going to be out here, he figured he may as well get something more than sleep out of the deal. Then he looked at the dates on the tombstones - these people had been dead since long before the epidemic, so there was zero chance of there being Zydrate in any of them. As he hiked along the main path, a badly-maintained jumble of bricks and cobblestones, the dates started getting more and more recent. The first had been from as far back as the 1850s, but these were starting to display dates within the 20th century. _Cripes!_ he thought. _Were these people all Catholic!?_ Names like Farrell, Gallagher, and Sullivan decorated the most ornate headstones, with things like "Beloved Father" and "Dearest Mother" emblazoned on them, watching over clusters of family members. An abundance of tiny lambs and baby angels indicated the graves of numerous children around some of the oldest stones in this section. The photograph of one little girl - Alanna Colleen Gallagher - stared eerily back at him from her headstone; the photograph was obviously post-mortem.

"All right, now that's just slightly morbid," he said out loud to the tombstone, walking away from it faster than normal. "People are weird."

A tombstone a good few rows back caught his eye - the Wallace family. A faded black-and-white photo of Timothy Aidan Wallace, the stern-looking patriarch with thick glasses, glared down at anyone who happened to look his way. Just a short ways away stood a great black house - well someone certainly had macabre tastes, to be living with a cemetery as their back yard. More recent graves led the way towards the house, more Wallaces and their spouses and children. The Graverobber headed that way, in case the back door had enough of an overhang to provide some shelter from the rain - it might be open-air, but at least it wouldn't smell so bad. As he got closer, wiping rain off his face, he almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the back steps were indeed covered by a sizable eave. However, said steps seemed to be occupied already - a tiny, pale creature in a black overcoat lay curled-up and fairly miserable-looking on the smooth concrete. Curiosity getting the better of him, he stepped over to get a closer look, then, when he realized who he had found, drew back in surprise.

"Kid?" he asked, wondering if she was all right. "Hey, kid! You awake?"

The skinny girl wrinkled her nose and hid her face in her knees - if she was, indeed, awake, she certainly didn't seem to want to be that way.

"Hey, mind letting me get out of the rain?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as he stepped under the eave of the roof and sat next to her.

Silence passed over the both of them for a few minutes before the girl looked up and startled.

"What are you doing here!?" she demanded, looking around as if she expected more people to start randomly appearing.

Graverobber raised an eyebrow at her, looking from her to the shut door - he had a good idea of what had happened, but figured he'd ask anyway.

"I could ask you the same thing," he returned, fixing her with a rather patronizing gaze. He pretended to consider something for a moment. "Oh, what's the line? Right... What's a girl like you doin' in a place like this?"

Shilo blinked at him, annoyed.

"Sleeping until you woke me up," she deadpanned - he had never heard her make an attempt at humor before. "I shut myself out of the house."

Well that much was obvious, he thought.

"How did you manage that?" he inquired, tilting his head at her.

She shrugged and looked up at the doorknob, glaring at it as if that would make it open by magic.

"I was visiting my mother... and dad," she told him, her voice thinning out a bit when she mentioned her father - yes, he supposed that would have to be hard on her to remember, even... it had to be six months later. "Stepped outside to get some air and shut the door behind me without thinking."

The Graverobber nodded. That sort of thing could happen to anyone - well, the shutting themselves out of the house bit, considering not many people had the experiences this girl did. Wasn't this a bit like how they had first met? He looked her over, still sitting there with her knees drawn up to her chest as tightly as she could pull them - she seemed to be all knees and elbows, quite sharp and pointy. Had she always looked so very frail, like anything more than a gust of wind might break her? When he had first seen her, especially with the way she had herself positioned, he thought she was wearing black tights - not the case; she had sheathed her legs in black thigh-highs of a thicker knit than regular stockings and hiked them up so they looked like tights under a dress. He approved. After a moment, she noticed him staring at her and stuck her tongue out at him, just to see what he would do about it - she had always been amazed by how easily he laughed, considering how intense he acted. She pulled her coat closer around her as the wind kicked up, bringing cold rain under the eave of the roof. Startling the girl, the Graverobber stood up and whirled around to face the door.

"You know, I think I may have a way to fix this," he announced, eyeing the doorknob. "Does this place have an alarm?"

Shilo shook her head 'no' and informed him, "I disabled it awhile back, but the locks are kinda funny."

"So long as it doesn't have an alarm," he told her, backing up a step and sizing up the solid-looking slab of wood. "You might want to move."

The dark-haired girl looked up at him quizzically, unmoving, as she asked "Why?"

"Is it really that hard to figure out?" he gestured at the doorknob, then at one booted foot.

Shilo scrambled to get out of the way, but stay under the eave of the roof - with one swift motion, the Graverobber kicked the lock, shattering the unit, doorknob and all. Smiling in satisfaction, he strode up to the door and took hold of the remains of the knob; then he frowned as the tarnished brass knob came off in his hand. _Obviously, that wasn't supposed to happen_, Shilo thought, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the city's most sought-after Zydrate dealer cursing under his breath as he fiddled with the broken door parts. He took the glove off his right hand and tried again, sticking his fingers into the hole where the doorknob had been installed, apparently trying to find something. Frowning in consternation, he turned to Shilo, contemplating something quickly. He told her "come here" and she approached with caution, unsure what he was about to try.

"Your hands are smaller," he told her by way of explanation. "You need to find the latch that opens the door. I broke the lock, but unfortunately the knob doesn't seem to be in much better shape."

She ignored the fact that he seemed completely dismissive of having broken the doorknob himself and slowly walked up to the door, not having a clue what she was supposed to be looking for. Pausing for a moment to examine her hand, she bent down, apparently completely unaware that, because she didn't bend her knees with this action, her panties were on display for anyone who looked to see. Graverobber, of course, just _had _to look - he was a man after all and, let's face it, she had been growing into quite an attractive young woman. At that moment, he was quite grateful to whoever had invented those ridiculous knit thigh-highs. A grin slid over his face and he contemplated the use of a well-placed hand but decided against it. Shilo stuck her fingers in the hole where the doorknob had been and squeaked when something pinched her - the thing had a moving bit, so she poked it again and heard something click. She pushed on the door and it gave a little bit, but caught on something; the latch had to have given way, but the door seemed to just be stuck.

"Could you try again?" she asked the Graverobber, backing away and gesturing at the door, where a sliver of the frame was visible.

He nodded and, after making sure she was good and out of the way, gave the door another sharp kick. This time it gave way and he had to hop a bit, looking quite silly, to regain his balance.

"You want to come in or something?" Shilo asked, after giggling a bit. "Be out of the rain for a while?"

If the Graverobber was surprised by this invitation, he certainly didn't indicate it, just gave her a bit of a bow and extended his arm in a gesture that said quite plainly "_After you_". She smiled and bounced through the door, suddenly a lot more animated, even while being as respectful as possble of her mother and father's graves. Privately, the Graverobber had it in his head that her parents would probably most appreciate seeing their daughter happy and sort of awkwardly sidled through the indoor plot. Shilo guided him up a rather craggy old staircase, narrow and winding stone steps with wrought-iron handrails that led god-only-knew where. She hummed under her breath, a tune he recognized as one of Blind Mag's, as she took the stairs two at a time - it seemed she just brimmed with energy now! Now the Graverobber understood how the girl had been able to somewhat keep up with him in the cemetery and in the streets; "blood disease" or no, she had to develop some sort of endurance just from living in this house... After another staircase, this one a dark hardwood, they came up in a back hallway, lit with Gothic sconces.

"Nice place, kid," remarked the Graverobber.

Shilo blushed and mumbled something that sounded like a "_thanks_", all of a sudden girlishly shy. He tilted his head and raised and eyebrow at her, smiling quite amiably - he couldn't help finding it endearing. She turned a quick corner and he followed her, through a door that led into a very comfortable-looking living room - okay, maybe it should've been called a parlor or some fancy shit like that. Graverobber watched as Shilo peeled off her coat, which looked much too big for her, and tossed it into a nearby armchair before flopping down on a nicely-upholstered couch, the kind with the wooden legs and wing-like back. He nodded appreciatively at what had been under the coat. A dark heather grey, almost black cable-knit dress with a mock-turtleneck collar hugged her developing curves and fell flatteringly to about eight inches above her knees.

Trying to make her half-frozen hands work right, she muttered "_crap_" under her breath as she couldn't quite get her fingers around the zipper on one of her nearly-knee-high black boots. A couple more fumbling tries only hurt her hands, getting that awful burning sensation as warmth returned and circulation began to straighten itself out. She rolled her eyes and decided to take them off later as she looked up at the Zydrate dealer she had invited into her living room - her brain nearly blew a fuse. Of course, she'd had fantasies - seventeen, after all, had been a veritable Age of Discovery for her, one of said discoveries being the world of sensuality and the men who came with it. But now that she had him here, she had no idea what to do with him. A blush spread over her cheeks and she ducked her head as she thought of what her dad would say to this situation...

"Do you want some dinner or something?" she asked, twisting her hands awkwardly and trying to pretend that it was only for the purpose of warming them up.

His eyebrows raised slightly.

"Sure, why not?" he replied, glancing at the hologram of Shilo's mother above the fireplace - it was almost as creepy as the post-mortem photograph of the little girl from the cemetery, but at least it had been done while the woman had been alive. Disguising his unease, he grinned at her and playfully inquired "Can you manage without catching something on fire?"

Shilo's answering glare didn't reach her eyes as she got up off the couch and flounced out of the room in a mock-huff; Graverobber followed at a slightly slower pace, figuring she had probably headed for the kitchen. Sure enough, he wound up in the nicest kitchen he had ever seen - well that just fit, considering he guessed this house, strange as it was, might be nicer than any building he'd ever actually been inside. For as cold and, well, _dead_ as the rest of the house seemed, the kitchen, by contrast, positively shimmered with warmth and life. A clattering noise, a _thump_, and a yell of "_Dammit!_" announced that Shilo had opened the pantry door and a box of pasta had fallen on her head. The box, while quite a few of the dry noodles inside looked broken, remained undamaged for the most part as it spun across the floor to its stopping place beside the Graverobber's boots. The label said 'vermicelli' - the spaghetti, of course, though the Graverobber would not have been at all surprised to find the worm in this house. Raising one eyebrow, he bent down and picked it up, only to wind up face-to-face with Shilo halfway through standing up - she had come to retrieve said box. He grinned widely at her and she blushed brilliantly red, giving him another mumbled "thank you" as she took the box from his hand.

Locating a chair, Graverobber crossed the kitchen and took a seat, straddling the cushion and leaning on the chair back, watching Shilo skitter around the kitchen, her cheeks still flushed as she felt his eyes on her. After flicking the stove on, she studied the pasta box as she bent down, once more without bending her knees, to yank the largest pot out from the cabinet underneath. Another smirk curved the Graverobber's lips - yes, those were indeed kitty panties - and he rested his chin on the back of one hand as he continued to watch. Shilo lifted the large pot easily, much more easily than he would have figured, her spidery hands clenched around the side handles. With a small "_oof!_", she set the large pot in the sink and turned the water on, tapping her booted foot on the hardwood floor as she waited for it to fill to the proper level. Eyeballing it after a little while, she shut the water off and, with a bit more difficulty, hefted the pot out of the sink and set it on the counter. After looking around the sink area for a couple seconds, a frown darkened her features a bit - she stalked along the kitchen counter, obviously searching for something.

"Have you seen the salt shaker?" she asked, as if the Graverobber would know.

He cast a glance about, not moving from the chair he had claimed, and saw nothing that resembled a salt shaker - or pepper, for that matter.

"What's it look like?" he inquired, scanning each working surface of the kitchen in turn.

The pale teenager's cheeks flushed bright red as she mumbled something he didn't catch.

"Come again?" he prompted, holding a hand to his ear as if he had suddenly gone deaf.

"A sheep!" she practically squeaked, embarrassed by her late father's odd taste in kitchen accessories. "The black one has salt in it and the white one's the pepper."

The Graverobber gave her a strange look, unintentionally making her feel two inches tall.

"Because, of course, nothing around here could make sense," he commented dryly, looking for the ridiculous table decor.

Shilo shot him the dirtiest look she could muster and he held up a hand to tell her without words that he meant no offense.

"Oh! That's it over there," she changed the subject, pointing at the farthest corner of the kitchen table. "Could you hand me the black one?"

Automatically, the Graverobber reached across the table and... paused for a second - really... _sheep_?

"Here," he said as he handed her the small, black porcelain sheep, eyeing it as if he expected it to bite him.

Shilo blushed deeper and mumbled something to the effect of "My dad had really weird taste" as she took the salt shaker from him and headed back over to the sink to season the water. She wasn't about to admit that she had never actually made spaghetti in her life - everything she had eaten recently had come out of boxes in her freezer. After taking hold of the sides of the pot again, she tensed her shoulders and lifted it not-quite-easily, concentrating hard on not screwing this up as she crossed the kitchen. Though she damn sure didn't consider herself _weak_ by any means, a heavy pot with probably too much water in it for spaghetti proved to be more weight than she could say she was used to. The Graverobber couldn't help smiling as he watched her nearly breathe a sigh of relief at setting the heavy thing on the stove. Determination hid the hint of uncertainty from her features - if he hadn't been so well-versed in the reading of people, he might not have even noticed it.

A sly idea crossed his mind and, keeping his movements slow and controlled so he stayed completely silent, got up from his chair and crossed the kitchen to stand just far away enough that she wouldn't know he was right behind her unless she turned around. Quite the impatient little thing, Shilo tapped her foot as steam just began to rise off the water; she cooked the way her dad did - on "high", no matter what. A single, tiny bubble of air collected on the bottom of the pot and popped up to the surface, as if just to get on her nerves by taking its time. Annoyed with how long it took, she emptied the pasta box into the water and decided just to let it go from there. Not really looking at anything in particular, she turned around, intending to go try and strike up a conversation with the Zydrate dealer. Only problem was...

"Oh!" she gasped, startled, as she walked straight into the man. "What the hell!? What are you doing---"

Whatever she had been about to follow "doing" with died on her lips as she looked up at him and saw his expression - almost inscrutable, but given away by something primal gleaming in the back of his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat and it took her a couple of seconds to remember how to breathe in the first place. Those deep brown eyes widened nearly to the size of saucers and a slow grin spread over his lips - the dark-painted curve shook her to her very core, stirring feelings she had only the barest grip of understanding on. She knew what a crush was and had figured out a while back that she had a rather major one on him, but had never managed to get a handle on the physicality of it. The fluttery feeling she got in her stomach when his image floated into her mind before she went to sleep was one thing... Right now, her heartbeat seemed to be up in her eardrums and the rest of her organs had gone AWOL, replaced by an intense, hollow burn. She found herself very, incredibly, acutely aware of the nerve endings in her lips as he lifted a hand to her face, his un-gloved palm curving quite comfortably against her cheek.

"This is nuts," she whispered, blinking slowly as she tried to figure out if that was really _her_ breathy, almost frightened voice echoing in her ears. "Completely insane..."

Graverobber smiled in return, his eyes dancing with mischief, playfulness, and an unmistakable spark of want - he had only intended to mess with her mind a bit, but somehow, he liked where this seemed to be going.

"What is?" he asked, the pad of his thumb tracing the high contour of her cheekbone.

The teenager's wide eyes flitted around the room, as if looking for a way to escape.

"_This!_" she hissed, her voice nearly inaudible. The she spoke up. "I don't know what it is... Just... when I'm around you, I get these feelings---"

Her voice trailed off as she watched an exasperating smile curve his lips - how the hell could he keep her guessing so easily when she tried so hard to figure him out!?

"I have a little glass vial for that," he growled, not a bit of seriousness coloring the dark words.

She raised a hand to smack him out of vexation, but somehow the spark of irritation went away when he caught her wrist with his free hand and his lips descended on hers. Her eyes widened for a moment, then closed when the hand that had been on her cheek drifted down, fingers brushing her ear teasingly, to wrap gently around the back of her neck. That warm touch guided her to tilt her head up, granting him easier access - it vaguely occurred to both of them, seconds apart, that this was her first kiss. The Graverobber brought his other hand down, hers coming with it, then let go and wrapped that arm around her lower back, pressing her more intimately against him than she was probably ready for - she didn't seem to mind, only gasped a tiny bit. His tongue trailed so softly, so slowly over her lips that she let out a small sound that didn't quite pass for a moan. The hand she had been about to hit him with crept shyly up his back, trembling slightly, to rest between his shoulder blades.

At that, his hand pressed in on the small of her back, causing her to rise up on her tiptoes to feel his lips more intensely on her own, whimpering as he pulled back, playfully keeping that contact from her. With their lips barely touching, he laughed quietly, his eyes opening the slightest fraction to watch how she reacted - her eyes crinkled a bit 'round the corners as she tried to restrain herself from doing something she might not have been aware of desiring. Her small, thin body trembled under his hands and her lips remained parted, wanting to be pressed against his once more. Well hell, who was he to deny her, considering he started this shit? Closing his eyes again, he caught her lower lip and sucked tenderly, bringing forth the first loud, honest-to-god moan he could say he'd heard out of her - a deep, staccato sound from her throat. At the soft vibrations against his lips, he nearly lost it - there was something predatorily invigorating about making this pretty little virgin produce such a sexual sound. As much as his lower body cried out for him to have her stripped down and pinned under him _right now_, he decided to see how far she would let him go with just a kiss.

With his hands still holding her exactly where she was, he slid his tongue against hers, quickly at first just to show her how it felt before retreating and wondering for a moment how she might respond to that. Sure enough, starting out a bit shy, she flicked her tongue over his lower lip, enjoying his light gasp and doing it again to get the same reaction. He smiled as she pressed that skinny hand of hers on his back and used the leverage to push up just enough that she caught his lip with her teeth and bit down, unintentionally almost hard enough to hurt. A tad surprised, Graverobber let out a soft growl and his hand slid from the small of her back to rest on her behind. She squeaked, startled, but made no move to stop him or make him move his hand - after a few seconds, she actually arched back, moaning softly. Smiling with a small burst of masculine pride, he carefully rocked his hips forward, making sure not to press too much against her _there_ yet. Shilo groaned at the first fleeting contact her body ever experienced with a man's burgeoning arousal, feeling herself heat up inside as her knees went weak under her.

Getting himself fully back under control, the Graverobber lifted his lips from Shilo's, smiling enigmatically as he watched her panting through those kiss-swollen lips, stained slightly darker by his own lipstick. Very slowly, almost reluctantly, he loosened his grip on her and held her off him a bit, not taking his hand off her derriere as she sank down off her tiptoes. The kiss at its most heated point had become a bit... wet... and, unaware that it wasn't the most graceful or ladylike thing to do, the teenager raised one thin hand and wiped her mouth on the back of it. Now, that probably would have at least partially offended him had it been anyone else, but Shilo's honest inexperience caused the action to be stirring in an odd way. She blinked up at him, her smile as shy as could be while remaining totally engaging - her pale cheeks blushed bright red and she caught her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. After a few moments of apparent consideration, she rose back up and kissed his cheek quickly before retreating and studying her boots. Chortling under his breath, he slid his hand under her chin and tilted her face up to his.

"Come on, kid, you don't have to be shy around me," he coaxed, stroking her soft skin with the backs of his fingers and smiling at the quick catch in her breath as she tilted her head back. It pleased and slightly amazed him how willing she became to expose the vulnerability of her pale little throat to a man whom she knew very well could be quite capable of violence. His voice dropped down into his chest as he purred deeply, "So you like that, huh?"

A soft, keening whimper escaped her lips and the Graverobber inwardly marveled at just how touch-sensitive she was, so positively responsive even to the lightest touch of his fingers on an area that made most people draw back in defense. Her eyes fluttered as he trailed his fingers ever-so-lightly along the gentle line of her jaw and her breath hitched again when he caressed the sensitive spot behind her ear. Slowly, he let his hand slide forward, stopping back under her chin and holding her a bit more firmly in place. A spark of caution lit in Shilo's dark eyes, but something in her told her to trust him and she closed her eyes as he bent his head down and his lips approached hers. The heat of his lips radiated out to her own and she tilted her head up to kiss him again, but he pulled back, at first denying her that contact. She whimpered and tried again, only to be held back once more as he teased her mercilessly, his lips _so close_ to hers for so many moments without touching. She might have whispered "_please_" or it might have just been in her head - she couldn't tell - but either way, it didn't matter as his tongue snaked out to trail over her lower lip and she moaned out loud.

Until now, her touches had been soft and quick, almost as if she were afraid he might react badly to her attempts, but for a moment, she shut her nerves away and slid a hand up to tangle in the back of his long hair, pulling him closer. His grip tightened on her backside and she giggled into the kiss, causing quite an enthralling sensation for them both. Showing the boldness he knew perfectly well she had in her, her tongue glided over his lips, clumsily due to her lack of practice, and he moaned softly to urge her on. _That's more like it_, he thought - while he found the apprehensive girlishness charming, he wouldn't mind seeing a bit of her sassy attitude either. As her tongue slipped almost-cautiously into his mouth, he caught it between his lips and sucked gently, causing her body to tense up for a moment as she groaned deeply, enjoying the new tingle this sent down her spine. Growling playfully, the Graverobber fluttered his tongue against Shilo's, delighting in the vibrations of the half-moan/half-cry she let out against his lips. He released her tongue, then pulled back from her lips to kiss his way along her jaw line and up to her ear.

"Call me crazy, but I think you liked that," he breathed into her ear, not losing the chest-resonating timbre of his voice.


	2. Chapter 2

In Sanity

_**Disclaimer: **_**I still don't own Repo! and I never will. I really don't do witty disclaimers. Also, there will be a couple of marked footnotes, for those who care to know a bit more about Shilo's bugs. Said footnotes will be indicated with asterisks (*).**

_**A Brief Author's Note:**_** I'm breaking this one into chapters, since I have been alerted that Breaking and Entering is a bit of a long read.**

Whatever Shilo answered with wound up getting completely lost as the both of them heard a wet burbling sound, then a _pop!_ and the hiss of liquid meeting heat and instantly turning to steam. She turned her head quickly to look over her shoulder as the Graverobber jerked up to locate the source of the sound as well - together they watched the water in the spaghetti pot continue to boil over for a moment, disoriented. Yelling a sharp "_Goddammit!_", Shilo pushed back out of the Graverobber's arms and whirled around to turn the stove off. Half the pasta had sloshed over the sides with the water, causing a great mess and effectively ruining her plans of homemade anything - no way was she trying anything else tonight, not after that. A quick look located a pair of potholders, black with white sheep embroidered on them, and she snatched them up, clamping her best grip onto the pot handles. Cursing under her breath - the few words Graverobber could accurately pick up surprised him - Shilo shuffled over to the sink and set the pot down, her face red in embarrassment.

"I'm... really sorry about that," she told him stiffly, not meeting his eyes as her face burned bright crimson, the color spreading to the tips of her ears and down her neck as well. She scuffed one boot over the floor and leaned on the counter beside the sink. "I guess I should have mentioned I can't cook."

His mind elsewhere, the Graverobber just shrugged his shoulders and looked at the mess on the stove contemplatively for a moment before smiling at the blushing teenager.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he said dismissively, a jaunty smile curving his lips after a second. "I just asked if you could manage without catching anything on fire... and you seem to have managed that just fine."

Shilo scowled at him, obviously still flustered at what had just happened with the spaghetti - maybe about what they had just been doing; he couldn't quite tell for once.

"I've got some frozen stuff - that's what I normally have," she told him, still not looking at him as she scurried across the kitchen, pulled the big silver door open and stared determinedly into the freezer. "I hope you don't mind..."

"Kid, it'll be better than what I've normally got," he told her, not elaborating on that.

The teenager made a noise that he couldn't quite decipher, somewhere between a sound of assent, a snort, and a touch of something else he couldn't rightly place, and bent down to grab something off one of the bottom shelves, once more without even thinking of bending her knees. Graverobber let out a barely-audible groan, wondering if the girl possibly _knew_ she displayed her panties to him every time she did that. The restraint he showed earlier left him - _third time's the charm, eh?_ - and he crossed the kitchen quickly, fully intending to let her know _exactly_ what he thought of her little teasing routine. However, he showed up a few seconds too late and wound up getting hit in the chest with a box of frozen lasagna as she turned around without warning. After letting out a surprised grunt, he stepped back and tried to pass it off as an accident, as if trying to say without words, "_No, I wasn't about to grope your ass_". _Of course not_, he thought sardonically, raising an eyebrow at the girl, who remained unaware, as she brushed past him and set the box on the kitchen counter. The sounds of ripping cardboard gave way to a loud _POP!_ and he turned around to find Shilo standing by the counter with a large knife in her hand.

"Do I want to know?" he asked, his eyebrows both raised in surprise, badly disguised as a suave tease - the sight of her with the butcher knife proved both arousing and frightening at the same time.

Shilo shrugged and returned the knife to the hardwood block beside the stove.

"It just makes a really satisfying loud noise," she said simply, bending over again - he stared openly, wondering if she would notice - to pull a difficult cabinet door open and rattle through the inside's contents, finally straightening up with a rather dented cookie sheet in hand. "Crap... I forgot to preheat the stupid oven..."

She set the temperature on the oven and placed the frozen tray of lasagna on the cookie sheet - after pausing for a moment, she backed up to the counter, placed her palms on the edge, and hopped up to sit there, swinging her legs idly. The Graverobber briefly wondered if she had ever been taught that girls were supposed to sit with their legs closed, his eyes finding that little flash of black between her legs. Slowly, he practically stalked across the kitchen, forcing back the smile that threatened to curve his lips at her sudden expression of anticipatory unease. He placed a hand on each of her knees, deliberately not moving closer or pressing against her, just waiting to see what she would do. At first, she shrank back a bit as he approached, unsure of what he wanted from her, but the slight anxiousness melted at the warmth of his touch. Surprising him just a little, she leaned forward, an almost expectant gleam in her dark brown eyes - he grinned back, content for the moment to tease her again.

He removed the hand he'd had resting on her left knee and threaded it into her hair, not leaning any closer to her as he ran his fingers through the soft black strands a few times. Shilo tilted her head back into his touch, a pleased purring sound rumbling softly in her throat - oh, that was just _naughty_, thought the Graverobber, laughing briefly in his head. Taking that last step towards her, still not pulling her any closer, he found himself almost pressed against the kitchen counter, at a small stalemate with the brown-eyed girl sitting there, staring back at him. She wouldn't move, waiting to see what else he might do, and he wanted her to explore this new situation a bit. He tugged a bit on her hair, just enough to tease, to make her want, and she gave him a challenging look, leaning close to him, her lips an inch or so from his. The Graverobber smiled, delighting in her using his own tricks on him - not as well, due to inexperience, but it was certainly endearing having her try. Not nearly as patient as him, Shilo pressed her lips eagerly on his, moaning with desire as he opened willingly for her, quite ready to let her let loose.

A fumbling, inelegant, barely middle-school-quality kiss followed as he allowed her to completely take the reins - certainly not the best he'd ever had, but most definitely with more true, whole-hearted quality than he had felt in a very long time. At first, she used her tongue a bit too much and exactly twice, their front teeth clacked together. Her fingers tightened a bit too much in his hair and she wound up leaning to the left, banging her forehead on his and pulling back to smile apologetically, her cheeks pleasantly red. Graverobber ran his tongue over his front teeth, trying to shake off the edging memory of enamel hitting enamel, and chuckled softly as he rubbed the sore spot on his forehead. He leaned in again, the quiet laughter turning sinister as his lips touched her ear and he wrapped an arm around her, one hand still on her right knee for leverage and to keep her where she was. His teeth nipped gently at her earlobe, causing a surprised squeak to escape from Shilo's moist, kiss-swollen lips. The hand pressed against her lower back snaked around to skim up her side, bringing delicious shivers with it.

The intruding _DING!_ of the oven's preheating cycle ending nearly went ignored - Graverobber would have been fully prepared to pretend it hadn't happened, if not for Shilo's small hand pushing at his chest. He rolled his eyes and then laughed a bit when she hopped down off the counter, nearly toppling over as she tried to get her knees to do what she wanted them to. Shilo glared at him and turned on her heel, letting out a shocked "OH!" at the playful swat he administered to her backside as she made to stalk off. Hell! She had just been on her way to grab the lasagna and put it in the oven! She looked over her shoulder and saw the Graverobber sitting on the counter where she had been, so she stuck her tongue out at him. He raised an eyebrow at her and she turned back to the lasagna. The container and its frozen contents made all kinds of eardrum-rattling clattering sounds as Shilo made a great big noisy production of setting everything up and sliding the cookie sheet in the oven. After the oven door shut with a satisfying _BANG!_, she reached over and set the timer on the microwave, then turned around to face the Graverobber again.

"The package says it has to go for almost an hour," she told him, leaning on the counter beside the stove.

Shilo pretended not to notice the mischievous smirk the Graverobber had fixed on her and tried hard to ignore him as she headed for the kitchen table to commandeer the chair he had pulled out earlier. Reaching over, she picked up a new book on butterflies that she had bought while she had been out earlier in the day - the blue morpho butterfly on the cover had caught her eye. Very deliberately studying the table of contents, she continued to pretend unawareness of the Zydrate dealer sitting on her kitchen counter as if he were nothing more than an old alley cat. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she felt him watching her more intensely than ever, as if he knew she hadn't actually read a single word yet. She acted like she couldn't hear the theatrically heavy steps of his badly-concealed approach from behind her, nor smell that revolting old coat of his. For as unaware as she had pretended to be and as truly aware as she actually had been, the hand he dropped on her shoulder startled her enough that she jumped almost out of her chair and her book went flying.

"OH!" she yelped, one hand flying to her heart as she nearly hyperventilated. She swung around and glared at him. "You know, while the lasagna's in the oven, why don't you go take a shower or something?"

Now that was a hell of a brush-off! Pretending to be appropriately chastened, the Graverobber bowed his head in exaggerated penitence and nearly _dragged_ himself across the kitchen. Rolling her eyes, Shilo got up to locate her book - from the softer _fwish_ sound of the landing, it had wound up on the rug near a side door. Graverobber gave her a heartily wounded look when she looked at him almost involuntarily, and continued on his way out of the kitchen as slowly as he possibly could go. Blushing, she turned away quickly and skittered over to where her book had fallen, snatching it up and hurrying into an adjacent sitting room to curl up in an armchair and try to cool off. She found her dad's old couch, the far right seat of which she had spent a lifetime commandeering - her heart clenched in pain as she remembered Dad letting her win the races they'd have from the kitchen table to the old couch. The aged, cologne-scented leather sort of puffed up around her in all the right places as she tucked her feet up under her and settled into her book.

If someone had ever asked her why she found bugs so confounded interesting, she wouldn't have been able to give that person a straight answer because, truth be told, she never really knew. Flipping through the introduction and the first chapter, which had been an introduction to basic insect anatomy - i. e. nothing she didn't already know by heart - she started on chapter two. The first illustration to greet her eyes was a magnificent Audubon painting of a yellow lady sulphur on a pink and orange lantana bush and a soft sigh escaped her lips. _True bliss_, she thought, studying the picture intently, trying her best to commit every single brushstroke, each detail, to memory. As... odd... as her relationship with her dad had been at times, it was quiet moments like this one - even with the Graverobber himself in her shower - that she realized how lucky she had been in so many ways. Had her dad been just a bit different, he might have tried to steer her in another direction or told her that society in general felt that entomology wasn't an appropriate interest for little girls.

As if just to irritate her, the cold, circulation-strangling sensation of her right foot falling asleep jerked her out of her thoughts and she shifted, scrunching her nose up as she tried to find a more comfortable position. Feeling returned to the extremity and she adjusted her hips one more time just to be secure in having that best position as she dove back into her book. Viceroys, painted ladies, and three different kinds of swallowtails adorned the next few pages - she had never quite broken the childish habit of going through and looking at all the pictures first. Words were always there and could be read over and over, as many times as one wished, but nothing compared to seeing a remarkable picture, whether photograph or some other media, for the very first time. Again, her right foot fell asleep and, growling under her breath, she decided it was time for the boots to come off. Now that her hands had feeling in them, she could easily grasp the zipper of each boot, the right first as she was quite eager to get full sensation back, and slide the device down. Hanging about in her sockfeet had always been one of her favorite ways to just _be_, to forget everything wrong in the world - like being barefoot, but able to slide across tile and hardwood.

"You never did tell me where the bathroom was," said a deep, off-handed voice as a shadow fell over a wonderful two-page spread of a monarch butterfly migration in Mexico, the kind with millions of individuals and trees blanketed with butterflies to the point that branches fell under their weight. She looked up, straight into that smug, grinning face. "Care to j--- I mean, _show_ me?"

Shilo declined to dignify that with a response, just rose rather mechanically from the couch, sad to leave the soft, spicy-scented leather, and, after dog-earing the specific pace - careful not to mar the picture - set her book down. Still trying to pretend she wasn't looking at him, she stole a glance at the infuriating man and immediately decided she liked what she saw. His horrible old coat hung open, as did most of the buttons on his stained, once possibly off-white shirt, as if he had been "loosening his bullets", so to speak, when he realized that he had no idea where a shower might be in the convoluted old house. She forced herself to hide her smile - his pale skin made her want things she couldn't begin to wrap her mind around. What little she knew of the "relations" between a man and a woman came from the occasional spicy novel and that one shocking experience in the Zydrate alley. Somehow, everything she knew beyond the little world that had been built inside her own house traced back to _him_. Keeping her head ducked, a position that did not go unnoticed by the Graverobber, the teenager brushed past the man and headed for the stairs.

Graverobber had certainly had every intention of playfully annoying Shilo on the way up to, he assumed, the guest bathroom, but soon figured out that if he didn't actually pay attention to where they were going, he wasn't going to get there or get back. This house had apparently been built by a termite colony, with all its twists and turns, all the hallways tall and narrow. Shilo moved surprisingly fast for someone who had been "sick" her whole life, every so often ducking off to the right or left and going down a different hallway - had the house looked this big from the outside!? Graverobber decided he really didn't want to know the logistics of the place, considering it would probably just make his head hurt, and stepped up his pace as Shilo turned a sharp right-hand corner. With the sudden movement, the skinny teenager nearly disappeared from view. He turned just as smartly and stopped short when he found Shilo with her back against one hideously-papered wall - sickly, mustard-y yellow-green with horrible orange... were those daisies or just really screwy-looking sunflowers? Whoever had wallpapered this house had either been blind or... The Graverobber blinked, not wanting to pursue that line of thinking for even one second longer. Shilo grinned up at him, the expression so exquisitely _wicked_, and took a step towards him.

"And just what do you have in mind now, young lady?" he asked her in a teasingly patronizing voice, tilting his head down at her. He didn't even have to take a step, just leaned forward and braced his hands on the wall, one on either side of her shoulders. "Here I thought you were a good girl..."

He pressed forward, backing her up fully against the wall and watching her eyes light up with a devilish sort of excitement - he liked this side of her, however much of it she wanted to show him. Shilo's jaw set in determination as she took both sides of his open shirt and gripped with all she was worth, so he let her pull him flush against her. Her cheeks blushed red at her own brazen action, but she giggled and tugged on his shirt as she tilted her head up, stood on tiptoe, and missed his lips entirely due to the difference in their heights, kissing his chin instead. He laughed quietly in return and helpfully brought his lips down on hers, growling playfully into the kiss as Shilo continued to pull at his shirt. Still bracing with his left hand, he brought his right down to slide over her shoulder, feeling her shiver even under the thick knit of her dress. Their tongues clashed - she was definitely getting the hang of that with speed well exceeding his expectations - and Shilo moaned louder than anything he had heard out of her so far. A small, warm hand found his bare chest and he pulled back just enough to suck in a quick breath before descending on her neck, sucking gently at the soft, pale skin. Shilo tilted her head to the side, her eyes widening in surprise as she gasped at the new sensations.

She had read her fair share of vampire lore during a short period when she was about fifteen, around when her father said she should have been learning basic algebra. The Vampire LeStat seemed boring by comparison now and even Dracula himself had nothing on the solid physical sensation of this man's lips and tongue teasing her, his teeth nipping her skin just hard enough to make her yelp. She loved every second of it, moaning and trying to pull him closer, one hand threading up into the back of his hair. The texture wasn't exactly pleasant, rather rough and matted - he did need a shower, but for the moment, she could deal. A positively sinful idea crossed her mind and she raised one knee to hook around his hips. Graverobber's eyebrows raised in surprise and he pulled back to look down at her with a question in his eyes. She answered with a smile that practically _sparkled_ back at him, pressing her hips to his and pretending that she was not blushing fiercely at the feel of him between her legs. To hide that, she tightened her hands in his shirt, pulled herself up a bit, and nipped his lip, this time not hard enough to even come close to hurting him. Well, he couldn't argue with that, so he placed moved his free hand from the wall to her knee, holding her where she was for a moment before she started wobbling and he let her down, returning his hand to where it had been. Shilo giggled, rested against the wall for a bit, then ducked under his arm and veritably skipped back into the main hallway, still smiling at him.

"You are a naughty girl," the Graverobber told her, trying to hide the heavy arousal in his voice - having her pressing her most intimate part against him like that still rang at the forefront of his mind.

A glowing, divine smile answered him and its bearer continued down the hall, a significant increase in the spring in her step - he couldn't help but follow, growling under his breath at how she teased him. There couldn't be any way she was unaware of how tantalizingly her hips swayed back and forth in that pseudo-modest, curve-hugging knit sheath. Those silly black thigh-highs clung attractively to her legs - there weren't many girls who could pull off the whole "tights" thing, much less something that unusual. Shilo continued down the hallway, past a few close-doored rooms and another hallway, her steps so light that she did not cause the floorboards to squeak. She took a left turn and stopped short, almost causing him to collide with her as he turned the same corner, considering he had been unable to see her from his approaching angle. The alcove had a hardwood door standing halfway open just at the end of it and Shilo stepped back against the wall to let him pass. He gave her a rather curious look and proceeded, the teen following not-quite-closely.

"This is the guest room," she told him unneccessarily, gesturing around. Then she paused for a second. "Well, it would have been if we ever had guests..."

Graverobber nodded, not feeling the need to say anything to that.

"Bathroom's in there, should have soap and everything," she said a bit stiffly, pointing at the back left corner of the room. "Towels are in the linen closet on the right. I'm assuming you can find your own way back downstairs, right?"

The Graverobber grinned and gave a snort of teasing laughter - he noticed she was back to pointedly not looking at him.

"I'm sure I can," he replied, looking back at her over his shoulder. Shilo inched towards the door and the Graverobber noticed it. "So run along like a good little girl - I'll be back soon, I promise..."

He followed this with a large, taunting grin, watching Shilo's face turn as red as he had seen it become so far. Her thin hands clenched into fists and for a moment she looked like she very much wanted to punch him - part of him wanted her to try it; that spirited side of her amused him to no end. Turning around quickly, he advanced on her, causing her to back rapidly towards the door. He didn't have to cover much ground before he could take her by one shoulder and pull her to him again. Shilo struggled, pushing at him with both hands - somehow, she lost the effect entirely when, every time she touched his bare skin, she yanked her hands back as if she had been burned. Graverobber smirked down at her, quite amused by her quite-obviously-forced display of prudery, and caught her by both wrists, stilling her movements. Slowly, predatorily, he leaned down so that his lips almost brushed her ear, snaking his tongue out to trace the sensitive skin and send shivers down her spine.

"Try not to miss me too much," he teased before pulling back, turning her around, and swatting her behind again - just as she turned around, fully intending to smack him right in the jaw, he turned away and she found him halfway to the bathroom. Staring dumbly, she watched him saunter in and give her a naughty wink before closing the door firmly behind him.

"You jerk!" she yelled, spinning on her heel and slamming the door as she stormed out of the room.

The Graverobber grinned in total merriment as he listened to Shilo's stomping footsteps fading away down the hall - that girl would never cease to amuse him, what with all that theatrical standoffishness. He whistled happily as he dropped his moldy old coat on the floor and his shirt followed it, the cloth tumbling down to form an evil-smelling heap. He balanced for a minute or two, halfway seated on the edge of the sink, and bent down to unbuckle his boots - two loud, satisfying _thunk_s accompanied the falling footwear. A completely abhorrent smell filled the bathroom as he removed the mismatched knitted... _things_ that passed for his socks. After fiddling with his belt for a moment and a half, his pants landed on the floor alongside his socks and boots, the large, clunky buckle hitting the tile with a _clank_. His whistling went a bit off-key as he had to be a bit ginger with the waistband of his boxers - his body had not entirely calmed down from the excitement in the kitchen. The rather threadbare blue pinstriped boxers joined the rest of his clothes on the floor and he stretched out a bit, then reached over to twist the shower knob to "hot".

Steam filled the bathroom within about a minute and a half, fogging the mirror from top to bottom, and he took a deep breath of the hot, moist air before stepping into the shower. He loved having them almost scaldingly hot - when you didn't get to shower on any kind of regular basis, you didn't take the few you got for granted. After cracking his neck noisily, he turned around, letting the steaming stream hit his back; immediately, he felt heaven-knows-how-long worth of tension release out of his muscles. He tipped his head back and winced slightly as the nearly-blistering water hit his scalp and cascaded through his long, matted hair. A few seconds passed as he acclimated himself to the ridiculously hot water, then he turned about, looking around for something resembling shampoo. To his chagrin, he found a widely-varied assortment of the most feminine-looking bath products he could ever remember seeing. The prettily-molded plastic bottles were enough to make any man stomp out of the shower, determined that they would rather stink than smell like _that_.

However, as anyone who laid eyes on him could say, the Graverobber was decidedly _not_ just any man - to him, a shower was a shower, and that was just that, regardless of how flowery he wound up smelling. He reached out for the bottle containing shampoo, about three-quarters full of a viscous, violet liquid, and squeezed a bit into his hand. The almost-cloying smell of artificial lavender fragrance wafted up with the steam of the shower and he wrinkled his nose for a second before bringing the purple handful up and rubbing it into the top of his head. Lather practically erupted from it and he figured it would be best to just get this over with. Never one to be particularly gentle or careful with his hands, he scrubbed briskly, squeezing his eyes shut and rinsing the offensive froth from his hair - it hadn't done a thing to rid the soggy mass of the tangles; if anything, getting it wet had made it worse. The bottle that had been next to the shampoo - the one no self-respecting man would ever touch - the conditioner, looked so inauspicious...

Well, it had been quite established that he wasn't like other men. So, he picked up the other bottle, this one full of pastel lavender goo, and tipped out a more generous handful than a less self-aware man would have dared. Not entirely sure how this "conditioner" stuff worked, he slapped that on top of his head just has he had done with the shampoo, scrunching his nose in confusion when it did not start to lather. As strange and unfamiliar as the stuff was to him, he had to admit his hands slid through his hair much easier than they had been doing before. A few knots had become so bad that he just had to grit his teeth and rip out the knotted hair. The conditioner made everything in the shower slippery - the sensation of it dripping down his back felt particularly odd; he had certainly never experienced anything like that before! And on top of everything, it smelled even more strongly of lavender fragrance than the shampoo had.

With his hair rinsed and hanging, waterlogged, down his back, he peered from one end of the shower to the other, hoping, but not really figuring, that whatever he might find that looked like soap was not heavily scented of artificial lavender. Thank heaven, he found a plain white bar of soap sitting innocently in a dish at the back end of the shower. Silently thanking the Powers That Be, he reached for the soap and cursed loudly as the conditioner on the floor of the shower nearly caused him to fall forward. Seizing the small white bar before anything else went wrong, he started scrubbing his shoulders and chest, relieved to be getting rid of the smell of half-dead Zydrate junkies, not to mention the actual corpse yuck. More of that old, nagging tension melted out of him as the soap, mercifully lavender-free, glided over his skin. For a very brief moment, he felt... tired, something he hadn't allowed himself to truly feel in longer than he could reasonably remember. His eyes drooped a bit, then he perked himself up, washing rather sloppily under his arms, screwing up his nose at the way the humidity of the shower magnified the fact that he smelled like a dead goat.

Mindlessly, the Graverobber continued washing the filth of his life off his body, his nose still tingling absently from the strong scent of lavender hanging about the steamy air.

*****

Downstairs, Shilo had returned to her book - after all the informational bits and Audubon paintings in the front of the book, everything from the fifth chapter on formed a field guide to the butterflies of the world. A _Dryadula phaetusa* _seemed to blink back at her from a patch of rich-looking, deep brown forest soil somewhere in Brazil, no matter that bugs did not blink, strictly speaking. For someone who, up until a few months ago, hadn't left the house she had grown up in but twice _ever_, she had the most amazing sensate imagination. She could nearly smell the soft, almost spicy aroma of the forest floor and the sweet, heady perfume wafting off the white blossoms of the surrounding Amazon lilies. Her ears pricked up a bit and she swore she could hear birds cheeping and singing and monkeys making noises of one raucous kind and the other. For a long moment, she just had to close her eyes - while she had always been a voracious devourer of written information, sometimes she couldn't deny that books brought her a visual experience no television screen could.

Tilting her head back with her eyes still closed, she let herself relax into her dad's old seat on the couch, simultaneously smelling the reality of smoky-scented leather and hearing the fantastical sounds of innumerable rainforest songbirds. Greens, blues, whites, reds - every color that grew out of a plant, glimmered down from the sky, or gleamed off of a bird's wing - danced across the backs of her eyelids. The weight of the book in her lap vaguely kept her grounded as her mind soared away to explore the dangerous rainforests, dreaming of the bugs she might find there. Leaf-cutter ants skittered over branches, carrying green scraps that dwarfed their segmented bodies. The loud buzzing alerted her to the termites and mosquitos flying around the air - she wanted a specimen from each and every species she saw, male and female. In her right hand, she held her favorite jar, the lid tightly screwed on to prevent the ether-soaked cotton wad in the bottom from leaking its sickly fumes everywhere.

A beautiful four-and-a-half-inch-long _Titanus giganteus**_ hiked resolutely along a knobbly branch, clacking its magnificent pincers together, small for a bug that could potentially reach a solid six-and-a-half inches in length. Sure, it was small for its species, but it seemed a shame not to take such a gorgeous specimen; its elytra, the hard covering over its forewings, shone bright and brown, like polished wood. _Four-and-a-half inches wasn't exactly a shabby size for a bug, anyway_, thought Shilo, smiling as her hand tensed on her jar. She padded over as slowly as she possibly could, wincing and then freezing dead still every time her foot hit a fallen branch. The beetle didn't seem to notice; for everything she had ever read and all the attention her books paid to bugs and their compound eyes, she never could quite figure out how well they could hear. They didn't seem to have visible ears - but her brain was trying to distract her now and she shook herself back to the forest, staring at the brown insect. She was just out of reach of the giant bug and had to restrain herself from pouncing a second too early - the countdown started in her head: _Five... four... three... two..._

"_Shit!_" she swore in her dream as the insect took it into its head to fly away just before she got to 'one'. A monkey chattered at her from overhead, and she dodged a flying nut shell - it landed near her right foot. A large scarlet macaw laughed cacophonously and ruffled its wings, sounding like it was probably somewhere near the monkey. "_What else could go wrong?_"

As if on cue, a cold, wet drop hit her nose and for one horrible moment, she thought the spider monkey had let loose with its normal territorial display - everyone knew that monkeys would piss on you given half the chance.

Footnotes:

* _Dryadula phaetusa_ is also known as the Banded Orange Heliconian, Banded Orange, or Orange Tiger. I found this information on Wikipedia under "_Dryadula phaetusa_".

** _Titanus giganteus _the Titan beetle, the largest known beetle in the Amazon rainforest. To back this up, check Wikipedia under "Titan beetle".


	3. Chapter 3

In Sanity

_**Disclaimer: **_**I still don't own Repo! and I never will. I don't own anything used as an allusion in this fic either. If you want funny disclaimers, read Alicia Blade's Sailor Moon fics.**

_**A Brief Author's Note:**_** I like Italian food and have a thing for guys with scars - can anyone tell?**

"Huh!?" sputtered Shilo, jerking her head up and almost sending her book flying again as the Graverobber narrowly avoided a nasty blow to his chin from the top of her head. "Whazgoin'on?"

Husky laughter greeted this graceless display, a warm, hearty sound that issued from the very depths of his chest, causing his entire upper body to rumble with the sonorousness. Another drop of water dripped off the tip of his nose, falling onto Shilo's cheek, causing her to scrunch up her nose as she swiped at the drop with the back of her hand. Without warning, the Graverobber easily vaulted over the back of the couch and landed messily beside her, his dripping-wet hair splashing her like a dog shaking. Shilo frowned at him and quickly shut her book to protect it; giving up any hope of reading until the lasagna came out of the oven, she closed said book and set it on the end table beside the couch. Snorting irritably, she flicked a couple of water drops from the front cover before they had a chance to distort the picture of the blue morpho. She tucked her feet more carefully up under her, as if showing them was some sort of breach in her code of modesty.

Tilting her head, she took in the Graverobber's new appearance, sniffing discreetly at the strong smell of lavender wafting off of him and silently wondering what the hell he had done to coat himself in it. Her cheeks blushed a Technicolor-ish shade of red and her eyes widened to the size of saucers as she looked him over, the first thing she noticed being that he wore a set of soft black trousers and nothing else. She didn't really want to think right off of where he could possibly have procured them - the obvious thought would have to be the bureau in the guest room, harmless enough. That musing didn't hang around her mind for long as she watched small drops of water from his hair cascade over his pale skin, down his slightly hairy chest and stomach. The nearly-white expanse of skin bore a few scars, not a one of them from surgery. Blade wounds that looked like he had once had to stitch them himself, their edges rough and needle holes apparent, and what seemed to be a few bullet wounds lay scattered over his upper body, ranging in color from dull purple to bright, just-closed-up red.

"Something wrong?" asked the Graverobber, his voice changed from the teasing of earlier to a low, husky rumble, tilting his head down so that he seemed to be looking up at her.

"No..." whispered Shilo, so low he almost couldn't hear her.

Very slowly, her movements erratic and hesitant, she reached one hand out to touch his chest, her fingertips cool against his skin, still hot on contact from the shower. To her surprise, Graverobber remained perfectly still, allowing her to trace each small imperfection - it was part of what he liked about her, the way she completely accepted, even preferred, a lack of surgical perfection. His eyes closed as her fingers found a four-inch-long cut from maybe seven-ish years ago (he couldn't remember exactly) with ragged edges. Cliche as it sounded, it had been quite some time since someone had caused sparks to dance along his skin and it seemed pretty ironic that an almost-eighteen-year-old he was almost solely responsible for corrupting could. Shilo leaned closer, shifting her weight to her left, her fingers brushing gently over his chest and down to his stomach, finding a rough, purple scar. The round indentation was clearly a bullet wound, long since closed over - he drew a shaky breath in spite of himself as she stroked it gently. He watched her bite down on her lip, an odd look in her eyes, somewhere between curiosity and sadness.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," he grumbled, feeling too scrutinized, as he reached his hand out in return to trace over the girl's skinny shoulder. "Come here..."

He reached out and pulled her into his lap without preface, not giving her a chance to protest - she squeaked in surprise, but made no move to push him away or struggle out of his grip. Sprawled haphazardly over him with little choice in the matter, Shilo found herself looking up into the most intense eyes she had ever seen. Apparently the shower had done absolutely nothing to calm him down, if the significant hardness she felt under her rear was any indication - her first reaction was, of course, to blush and messily try to right herself. Clenching his teeth, the Graverobber tightened his hands on her upper arms to still her movements, seeing as having her posterior grinding against him did nothing for a clear thought process. Watching the man who held her nearly come undone at her unwitting tease, Shilo wondered what would happen if she... baited him intentionally. A slow grin spread over her face and she kept eye contact with the thoroughly exaxperating Graverobber as she very, very calculatingly shifted her behind back and forth, letting a small cooing sound escape her lips.

He couldn't stand it, not after restraining himself so conscientiously throughout this entire bloody evening! In two shakes, he had Shilo pinned under him, his lower body pressed lasciviously against hers. She gasped, her eyes wide in shock and a touch of apprehension, quickly trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do next. Had she really wanted him to do something like that? Looking up at him, at the fire in his eyes and the way his lips trembled minutely as he panted hard, she decided she didn't mind a bit. With a soft, nervous giggle, she writhed under him, not struggling to get away - more to situate herself than anything else, unused to such weight on top of her. Before she could produce another sound, his lips found hers, but did not stay long; they traveled along her cheek, paying particular attention to the contour of her cheekbone. Slowly, he moved to her temple, his kisses becoming soft and hot, then slid down to nip her ear, growling lustfully.

His hands had not been idle through this - indeed not; while his left braced beside her, trying not to hurt her with too much of his own body weight, his right hand glided gently up her side, causing her to shudder pleasantly. He brought it to rest firmly on her left breast, curving his hand gently over the soft mound, squeezing and listening to her cry out. While his lips, tongue, and teeth worked at her ear, then down to her pale throat, he continued playing havoc with her sensitive breast. As he squeezed a bit harder, causing her to yelp almost in pain, he moaned in return, the deep, chesty sound caressing her ear to help urge her on. She squirmed under him and he used the opportunity to slide one knee between her thighs - Shilo ground herself against him automatically, never once thinking to control herself or quiet her cries. The Graverobber switched to her right breast, bringing his mouth down on the left one, teasing her through the thick knit of her dress; he had noticed quite a bit ago that she wore nothing underneath, at least up top.

Shilo nearly buckled inside under sensation overload. Throwing her head back and making small noises of pleasure proved to be all she could reasonably do under the ministrations of his hands and mouth - even if it did feel sort of weird having wet knit fabric against her skin. She wriggled a bit, so that she could get her right hand out from where it had been pinned awkwardly between the couch and her side. This, she immediately wrapped around the Graverobber, tangling in his soggy, multi-colored hair. He took this as encouragement and bit down a little harder, right on the sensitive tip of her left breast - Shilo arched her chest up reflexively, a loud "_AH!_" exploding from her lips. Spurred further on still, Graverobber pushed his knee up, letting her grind against him once more; with that, he removed his hand from her right breast and traced small patterns over her stomach, moving down to slide it between her legs.

Immediately, Shilo froze, her eyes wide and her hand still snagged in his hair, at his first ghosting touch, his fingers gliding over her most intimate part, still outside her panties. Repeating the motion drew a soft, wavering whimper from her lips and caused her to shift her lower body under him, wanting to feel that touch again. Smiling against her chest, the Graverobber couldn't resist obliging her, this time firming his touch a little, his fingers finding her most sensitive bit through the thin material of her panties. Shilo cried out in response, trying her damnedest to thrust up against his hand, making a soft "_mrph!_" noise when the weight of his body pressed on hers prevented her from doing so. Her frustration doubled when he snaked his hand inside her panties, caressing her lightly, feeling her soft skin under his fingers - he wasn't at all surprised to find her completely smooth... or wet enough to coat his fingers in seconds. Without delay, he slid one slick digit into her, feeling her wet tightness. Shilo gasped in return and tried frantically to sit up - _what the hell had he just done!?_

"Easy there - you're fine," the Graverobber purred soothingly, keeping his hand exactly where it was. "Everything's okay."

At the moment, Shilo figured she didn't have much choice but to trust him - it wasn't that what he had done had hurt, just felt really odd... and she didn't dislike it either. Biting her lip, she leaned back to where she had been, closing her eyes and wondering just what he planned on doing next, anticipation setting every single nerve ending in her body on edge. When he slid his finger inside her again, the palm of his hand flat against her sensitive little clit, she arched experimentally against him and gasped as she discovered that she liked indeed enjoyed that. Graverobber curved his finger slightly, working against a soft spot she hadn't even been aware of until that moment. Brushing against it a second time brought a long, wavering "_Ohh!_" from her lips, the sound a half-wild crescendo as she clenched briefly on him. The Graverobber smiled - it figured she would be hyper-sensitive to touch - and pressed a bit more firmly on that place inside of her, delighting in her frantic moans and the way she tried to thrust her hips against his hand. After a few more careful touches, he let a second finger join the first, causing Shilo to gasp again and her body to clench out of reflex.

"What... what are you doing!?" she panted, squirming under him, her hand fisting in his hair while the other tried to find purchase on the edge of the couch.

He breathed a soft, sinister laugh into her ear in response.

"Isn't it obvious?" he inquired playfully before drawing back in mock surprise. His eyes studied her face, flushed to the roots of her hair and her eyes and mouth wide in a combination of trepidation and anticipation. "What? You mean the little bookworm has never come across the concept of an orgasm?"

Shilo rolled her eyes, shifting her hips to try and ease the pressure building in her body.

"Of course I've... nngh... heard of them," she muttered, finding it a bit hard to control her own voice - if possible, her face darkened a few shades of crimson. "I've just... well... never had one..."

For a brief moment, the teenager, now bordering on not-quite-so-innocent, wondered if she had said the wrong thing as the Graverobber's expression darkened and he leaned down slowly; she tensed up as he bit gently on her shoulder, then let his hot breath touch her ear.

"Oh... dear..." he whispered heavily. "You won't be able to say that for long..."

Whatever Shilo had been about to say to that never made it out as two expert fingers slid inside her, going straight for that wonderfully sensitive place so deep inside her. She whimpered, the sound growing louder, and tried as hard as she could to wriggle away from him - the feeling was just too intense; she couldn't take it! Her body started trying to fight the sensation, muscles tightening as her head tossed back and forth on the soft leather, almost out of her control entirely. Inside her most intimate part, his fingers played havoc with the overly-sensitive nerve cluster, causing her already-tight sheath to clench hard on his digits. Completely unaware of how it had happened, Shilo found herself in the middle of her first orgasm - the small part in the back of her mind still capable of coherent thought pointed out that this was nothing like the descriptions in the spicy romance novels she had peeked at occasionally. There were no popping white lights or obnoxious screams of pretend ecstasy, just moans of erratic volume and pitch and her eyes clenching shut against the intensity. Graverobber's hand continued to tease her inside, while his other arm slid under her back, holding her close as she writhed against him. He winced as her hand tightened a bit too hard in his hair, then leaned down to whisper encouragements in her ear.

"That's right... Just let go," he told her, his arm pulling her tighter to his body. "Relax... that's it..."

Twitching a bit, she started to come down from her climax - they didn't last forever and a day, the way the novels might have her believe. The hand she had been trying to grip the side of the couch with came up to clutch the Graverobber's upper arm. Her grip shook lightly, both on his arm and in his hair, her trembling lips letting him know exactly how shaken she had been by her first experience with _la petite mort_, as he was more fond of calling it. He pulled back momentarily, just to let her get used to breathing normally again. Her chest rose and fell with much effort as her lungs worked in overdrive to get her brain the oxygen it seemed to have forgotten it needed. After a couple minutes, the room silent except for both individuals' heavy breathing, Shilo lay mostly still, blinking rather bemusedly up at the Graverobber, who grinned back at her, quite proud of himself. Creating a small aftershock in her body, he slid his fingers out of her, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he raised them to his lips and positively _savored_ the taste of her.

Gently, Graverobber got up off Shilo and pulled her to feet beside the couch, helping her steady herself and reaching down to the hem of that damned knit dress - it needed to go. She let him pull it up as far as, then over her breasts without protest, but when he tried to pull it over her shoulders, she batted his hands away and insisted without words on doing it herself. The Graverobber's eyebrows raised in a silent question, but he let her do what she decided she had to do - she was the kind who didn't let much stop her once she got going, he could tell. With a bunch of awkward hopping, a few mumbled swear words, and - for some reason he couldn't begin to figure out - tugging on her hair, she wrestled her top half out of the dress. Shrugging her shoulders and straightening her hair out again, she let the garment drop on the floor. Standing there in her black panties with the pastel green kitties on them and those clingy cable-knit thigh-highs, her arms crossed over her chest, she presented the most peculiarly arousing sight he reckoned he had seen in quite some time. His brain blinked, like radio static, at whether to put the emphasis on "peculiar" or "arousing".

Smiling wryly, he reached both hands out to her, sliding first his fingertips, then his palms along the soft skin of her cheeks, looking down into her still-blushing face and watching her stare at him, half-confused. With a reassuring chuckle, he leaned down and kissed her gently, maneuvering both of them so that he was now the one standing with his back to the couch. Normally not one for silly things or spontaneity, Shilo reached up like she had seen a lady in an old movie do and wrapped both arms around the Graverobber's neck. Deciding to repay her impulsivity with a little surprise of his own, Graverobber shifted his weight and sat back on the couch, the sudden change causing Shilo to land on top of him with a startled squeak. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her flush against him, his still-clothed arousal pushing against her panties. With her arms now pinned behind him, he had the opportunity to slide his hands down to her hips, helping her rock against him.

Shilo buried her face in the Graverobber's shoulder, his hair still damp against her cheek, and started to pant hard, her breath as hot on his ear as his had been against hers. Graverobber turned his head and, with a small growl, let his teeth find her pulse point, causing the teenager to cry out in a mixture of surprise, pain, and uncontrollable pleasure. Carefully, he closed his grip around her throbbing jugular vein, just enough to let her feel the difference in pressure - Shilo let out a shuddering whimper, almost afraid he would hurt her, but still trusting him not to. He held her still, closing his eyes and moaning against her skin, before releasing and pressing a kiss to the fresh mark. Shilo's thighs clenched on either side of his arousal as she moaned deeply in his ear, her arms tightening, still pinned behind his shoulders. The contact was too much for him - with his hands still on her hips and her arms still wrapped around him, he shifted the both of them so that Shilo wound up right back where she had been, pinned under him.

"Let's try for a familiar position, huh?" he asked jokingly, pressing his hips against hers.

"Actually, none of this is familiar to me, but we'll go with that," Shilo deadpanned, smiling back at him as she arched into his touch.

Graverobber had been about to try and move farther with her when an odd smell filled his nose - it smelled like something burning, like... was that cheese!?

"Of all the rotten times," he grumbled.

Shilo looked up at him, her face the picture of disgruntled confusion.

"What is it?" she asked, wondering what in the hell he could possibly be going on about - had something gone wrong?

"My dear, I believe the lasagna is on fire," he announced, as if it were nothing at all.

"Oh_ shit_!" yelled Shilo, flailing as she tried to right herself while still pinned under his weight. "Lemme up!"

Smiling sardonically, Graverobber shifted himself off of Shilo and watched as she righted herself, her knees shaking rather badly as she fished around for something to throw on and found nothing. Finally, she rolled her eyes skyward and ambled into the kitchen in nothing but her thigh-highs and black kitty panties, very aware of the insufferable man's gaze on her derriere. Feeling quite silly, she let her hips swing a bit more than normal as she stalked over to the oven and rummaged through a drawer for another potholder. Graverobber, enticed by this, vaulted back over the couch - mostly just because he liked doing that - and followed silently. After a moment, Shilo located a once-white potholder with two black sheep kissing on the front of it, one of them partially singed because her dad had left the thing too close to the stove, and cautiously opened the oven. Peering inside, she found that the lasagna had, in fact, _not_ been on fire - the cheese around the edge was quite a bit brown-er than she would have liked, but she could remove that easily enough.

"I thought you said it was on fire!" she yelled at the top of her lungs, unaware that the Graverobber was probably only six feet or so behind her and causing him to wince.

"Was that really necessary?" he griped, sticking a finger in his ear as if trying to see if anything had been displaced. "It smelled like it was on fire."

After slipping the potholder on, Shilo reached in and yanked the cookie sheet out of the oven, scrunching her nose at the acrid smell of nearly-burnt cheese and the heat of the coils against her face. Balancing it rather awkwardly, she tottered two steps to the side, those ridiculous stockings sliding on the hardwood floor. Graverobber watched, both entertained by her and mildly concerned at her being completely off-balance with something so hot precariously gripped in one potholder-sheathed hand. She had just managed to set the sheet and the lasagna down on the turned-off stove before her feet slid right out from under her. His knee-jerk reaction came a split second too late and Shilo crashed to the floor just as the Graverobber lunged to catch her, banging her bony hip noisily against the floor and yelping in pain. Blushing furiously, she set one hand on her now-bruised hip and shifted to sit upright, shaking her head and trying to brush off what had just happened. However, she couldn't help smiling shyly when she looked up and a hand stretched out to help her up, Graverobber acting the part of a gentleman for once.

"You okay?" he asked, pulling her to her feet and laying a hand over hers on her hip, watching her turn red to the tops of her breasts. "Sounded like that hurt."

"I'm fine," she told him a bit too quickly, feeling her mostly-bare skin heat up at his touch. "I should cut those burnt parts off."

A wicked grin slipped over the Graverobber's features and Shilo resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't going anywhere until he'd had his fun, whatever it was he had in mind. Licking his lips, just to make her insides turn to Jell-O, he bent down on his knee and moved her hand and his away from her hip, placing a soft kiss on the forming bruise there. Shilo let out a soft gasp and had to make a conscious effort to force her knees to hold her up - feeling this, the Graverobber aided her by placing his free hand solidy upon her behind. After another kiss on her hip, he trailed his lips down the crease where her thigh met her lower body, over her panties, letting the cloth barrier just heighten the sensation. Her hips bucked towards him reflexively - she wanted more, had only a vague idea of what she wanted, and he knew it. His knee, the one not supporting his weight, nudged her to spread her legs a bit and she obliged him, almost helpless to resist. The sharp, wavering cry that greeted his ears at the first kiss he laid betwixt her thighs let him know he had done something that she liked... very much.

"Stay still," he commanded softly, his words almost muffled against her.

"But why...?" Shilo tried to ask.

"Trust me," the Graverobber cut her off, kissing her more firmly between her legs and listening to her whimper because of it.

He pulled back and, without looking up at her, brought both hands to her hips, bowing his head to kiss along the waistband of those awkwardly endearing black kitty panties. Shilo panted at his expert lips repeatedly touching the soft skin of her lower belly, the contact extending each time and his breath tickling her in between. She cried out when he teasingly took the black elastic waistband between his teeth and let it snap gently against her skin, her knees going weak under her. Relying on his hands to keep her standing, she let her upper body relax, her head falling back with a deep moan, as he kissed down between her legs again, his tongue sliding against already-soaked cloth. He answered with a deeper moan, gripping her hips a little harder than he might have meant to, and bit the band of her panties again, this time tugging them downwards. His hands slid up to rest on her slim waist, ensuring her stability, as he pulled the little black garment down off her hipbones a bit at a time.

Finally looking up at her, smiling reassuringly, Graverobber removed his hands from Shilo's waist and took both her hands in his, guiding them to his shoulders so that she could hold herself up if need be. Immediately, as his hands guided her panties down her legs, hers gripped his shoulders as hard as she could, a quiet whine tumbling from her lips. Smiling, he kissed her right thigh, caressing the soft skin as he curved one hand around the back of her knee, bringing it up so that she could rest her foot on his knee, making it easier for him to get her panties out of the way. Keeping her hands tensed where they were, Shilo shifted her weight so that she could step out of them completely. Panting hard, she watched the man on his knees carefully, waiting in unconcealed anticipation for whatever strange and wonderful thing he might do next. With one hand around her knee and the other still on her hip, the Graverobber kissed his way back up her inner thigh and leaned closer to let her know for the first time exactly what a man's tongue felt like against her wet slit.

Shilo cried out as that warm, wet tongue dipped down to taste her entrance, teasing the sensitive skin there to coax more of that sweet flavor out of her body, then talented lips encircled her clit in a tender kiss. Graverobber pulled her closer, letting her almost off-balance for a moment before steadying her with strong hands, and let out a soft answering moan into her folds. The gentle vibrations caused a new, wonderful feeling between her legs and she arched against him, still trying to hold herself up with her hands on his shoulders. His lips left her clit after sucking on it briefly and his tongue replaced the feeling with deliberate swirls that caused every muscle in her lower body to tense up as she let out a long moan, almost a wail. The teenager felt her knees going weak and arched her hips reflexively into the masterful touch of his tongue. Lapping the small cluster of sensitive nerves with long, slow strokes. caused her body to produce even more of that sweet juice and the Graverobber helped Shilo position her body so that he could lick closer to her opening.

Her eyes closed as his tongue slid right inside her, then out, and then back in, in imitation of what she knew his hips would be doing later - she wasn't dense enough not to know where this night was headed. Graverobber pulled back a bit to catch his breath, then, completely on impulse, swiftly bit the inside of Shilo's left thigh, causing her to squeak out loud. One hand left his shoulder to pull on his hair in retaliation, though not hard enough to even begin to hurt, and he licked the bite tenderly, already turning stark red on her pale skin. He tightened his hand, gripping her a bit more firmly and switched over to her right thigh, kissing down the inside to find that she had a sensitive little place on the side of her knee. Smiling just the tiniest bit evilly, he looked up into her crimson face and winked at her before snaking his tongue out to flutter against the nerve cluster. Shilo's muscles tensed again and her eyes fell half-closed as she watched his tongue move against her skin.

As the two of them savored the moment, Shilo panting hard and the Graverobber now trailing his lips back up her thigh, a most peculiar thing chose that particular moment to happen. An odd sound, like a rumbling growl, announced itself prominently, breaking the relative silence of the room, cutting through Shilo's panting and her Graverobber's answering groans. Shilo jerked her head up, looking around the kitchen in bleary confusion, wondering what the hell that noise had been and unable to find the presence of mind to intone a good "What the fuck?". Graverobber, on the other hand, knew exactly where the sound had come from: his own stomach. He couldn't help it - he had been too hungry for too long and his body had finally decided to let him know in no uncertain terms that it required food and would not be denied. It was now his turn to feel the burning in the tips of his ears and know they were just as red as Shilo's cheeks had been so many times tonight. Rather awkwardly, releasing his grip on Shilo's knee, he clambered to his feet, watching Shilo raise an eyebrow at him, her mouth twitching in what might have been amusement.


End file.
